


Three Scenes from Valentine's Day

by INMH



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Romance, Season/Series 01, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2019-08-10 01:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Three separate scenes from a particular Valentine's Day in Season One.





	Three Scenes from Valentine's Day

-1-  
  
 _Vic-_  
  
 _I know we’ve had our problems lately. I know you’re not crazy about Wyoming, and I know you’re mad at me for moving us out here. I also know you’re really pissed at me for the Australia thing. It’s not finalized, Vic, I swear; I just said that I was thinking about it. I **do** care about what you think about it. _  
  
_Happy Valentine’s Day, I love-_  
  
Vic coolly lifted the bouquet of flowers out of the vase, dropped them to the floor, and proceeded to stomp on them. Expression completely flat, she also began to _jump_ on them, crushing the petals into the worn and dusty tile and listening to the stems snap beneath the soles of her shoes.  
  
When the offending flora had been duly crushed and smudges of green and red were painting the floor, Vic scooped up the remains, carried them over to the open window, and tossed them outside. Once that was done, Vic shut the window and rubbed at her hands to remove the sticky flower-goo. Finally, she picked the card up, ripped it in half, then quarters, then simply shredded the last few pieces and pushed the remains off of her desk and into the trashcan.  
  
Vic sighed, satisfied.  
  
And then she turned to face her coworkers.  
  
Walt, Branch, Ruby and Ferg were staring at Vic silently, eyes wide, expressions a mix of concern and wariness. They hadn’t made a peep during her display. Vic’s eyes flickered between them.  
  
“My husband,” She said icily. “Gives the shittiest apologies.”  
  
She went back to what she had been working on, and no one seemed to be interested in asking her to elaborate.  
  
-2-  
  
“We could have gone to the Busy Bee.”  
  
The look Cady gave him was flat, but not irritated.  
  
“Or we could have gone out of town.”  
  
“What’s wrong with spending the day at home?”  
  
The problem was, for Branch, the continuing feeling that Cady was either ashamed or self-conscious at being seen with him. It wasn’t that he thought she considered him an embarrassing pick of lovers, but rather the knowledge that being seen together in even the most innocent of settings could- and probably would- prompt people to gossip. And odds were, at some point that gossip would get back to her dad.  
  
A part of him couldn’t blame her for not wanting Walt to find out about them- Walt Longmire was not a man that anyone wanted to be on the wrong side of. Branch himself grimaced at the idea.  
  
And then another part of him, a part that he frequently had to order to keep quiet, wished that she would consider him worth the risk.  
  
But Branch loved Cady enough that he was willing to make more than a few compromises for her, and so he just smiled and said, “Nothing at all. Did you find that movie you were looking for the other day?”  
  
Cady grinned and got up to find it. Branch stood as well, fingers playing with the stem of the wineglass in their grip, and ambled after her. He could be happy with sneaking around for now.  
  
After all, there were worse things to endure in love, right?  
  
-3-  
  
Henry gave Walt an hour alone.  
  
It was obvious what the man was thinking about- on any day that might even be vaguely associated Martha it was easy to guess what Walt was brooding over. This was his first Valentine’s Day in just short of thirty years without his wife.  
  
But Henry could also easily picture what Walt would say if he were to approach him on the subject: _No, Henry, I’m not thinking of Martha. I don’t always think of Martha. Can’t a man have a beer and look sullen without thinking of his late wife?_ And then he would take another sip of alcohol and go back to staring at the wall with that long, lost expression on his face.  
  
And so Henry waited, let Walt brood for a time, watched the sheriff out of the corner of his eye as he served the last patrons of the night. Walt had come in late, and so by the time the hour was up most everyone was gone, save for a few stragglers that Henry would shoo away soon enough.  
  
Henry started to wipe down the bar, and progressed down the wood until he was in front of Walt. He slowed to a stop, and noticed that the man still had a quarter of a glass left- further indication of what he was thinking about.  
  
He sucked in a deep breath, and then leveled his gaze with his friend’s. “Are you all right, Walt?”  
  
Clearly that hour did something to help, because the look he received in return was a little less lost and a little more hardened.  
  
“Fine, Henry. Just fine.”  
  
-End


End file.
